


Our Hearts Exploding Along With The Bombs

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Farmer Harry, M/M, Soldier Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 22:22:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5392436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is an unfortunate wounded soldier who happens to stumble across the Styles residence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Hearts Exploding Along With The Bombs

**Author's Note:**

> this story is NOT WW2. I wanted to make it my own time and setting so I didn't have to focus on being accurate in locations and supplies and basically everything during the whole story. Some of it IS based off of articles I've read online and off of documentary's I've watched. Anyways I hope you enjoy, and I-in no way-am not promoting war and violence. War is a terrible thing. RIP everyone who died during the war(s). Thank you. Xx.

      The ringing in my ears is constantly there, always reminding me of where I am- even who I am. I am a soldier, actually  _was_ , I am running away now. I am running because I am a coward, and when I have a problem (which is the most of the time because life is a tragic thing) I never face it. I had signed up for war to prove that I am not, but I ended up proving _myself_   wrong, I didn't want to be a coward, but I am. My father had left me as a child, I was just a god damn baby, and unfortunately I inherited his cowardice. I also signed up for war because I am manly, I _am_ manly, I am. I chop wood and shoot guns and look at dirty magazines filled with pictures of nude women.

    The war isn't good though, it is the scariest shit you will ever experience in your whole life-which is quite short. It isn't like how they put in the newspaper ads. I haven't gotten any stronger, more muscular, and if I have it isn't a dramatic difference. Inside the tents are freezing during night, I get no sleep. I just shiver and close my blue eyes and try to dream about positive things, which I never do. My dreams are haunted by explosions and the red mists of fellow soldiers being obliterated into nothingness. Sometimes I wish I were one of them. There and suddenly you aren't anymore. No pain, no time to even process what has been done to you. Still, everyday I wake up and I fight and hide, then the day is over and I try to sleep. But, after months and months of hell, I couldn't take it anymore. Not after what happened.

      Niall, that was the first person I met during training camp. His eyes reminded me of chocolate, his hair reminded me of gold, and he reminded me why we even  _live_.


End file.
